Second Chances Reality: The Second Chances Reality
by BlueRowley
Summary: It's been a year since Harry Potter had entered the Second Chances Reality as Harry Snape, but even at five years old, he still has questions about why and how he even came to be in it. He seeks Albus's help in search of answers. This one-shot in the Second Chances Reality will explain how Harry came to enter it.


So, I've been asked several times if Harry was an adult in a child's body or if he simply had "original" Harry Potter's spirit, or if it was some kind of deaging. I have given answers that did not fully explain the situation because I thought I might incorporate the answers in a later story and did not want to spoil anything. However, I've decided against what I originally had planned and will focus the mystery into this one-shot. I hope this satisfies everyone's questioning. The title of this was more for my humor, by the way, even if it's fitting.

Also, in your reviews, I would like everyone to tell me what their favorite one-shots have been thus far in the Second Chances Reality series. I have been given so many ideas, its hard to narrow things down and focus on one idea at a time! I would love to write them all, but with everything I am writing ad school, that may take me a long time. So, by everyone listing a favorite/favorites, I can deduce which plot-lines and writing styles people like the most and look at ideas I have been given that relate. And of course, any one-shot suggestions are always welcomed. :-P

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry Potter took another long gulp of the firewhiskey. The burn that he had been enjoying earlier had faded to nothing. It was as if he been numbed to the wonderful torture he had been putting his throat through. He was binge drinking; yes, he knew that, and all about how unhealthy and dangerous it was, but he didn't care. He was going to drink until he was as numb all over as his throat was; until his body was numb, his emotions were numb, his mind was numb. Everything needed to be numb.

He shivered, rubbing his arms through the long sleeves of the robe he wore. Why was it so freaking cold in this building? Hog's Head was not usually this cold, even at night. Harry picked up the bottle of whiskey only to realize it was empty. He had never been one to drink before, maybe an occasional glass at special events. But he didn't care if this was a totally new solution to his problems. He was enjoying this solution. He was young – he might as well live while he was still young.

"Excuse me," Harry grunted out, holding up more sickles. "Another firewhiskey."

The bartender came towards him and stared hesitantly at the money Harry was offering. He frowned and said, "Sir, you've already had nine full bottles – I mean, I'm surprised you're not unconscious. Perhaps I should call for medical –"

Harry tossed the sickles at the man and held up his wand in a rather threatening manner. His mind was a bit fuzzy – maybe he wasn't thinking clearly, but he didn't really care. He didn't want to think. In fact, he wanted all thoughts out of his head. He glared at the man, though his facial muscles felt so sore and weak.

"Just get me my drink," he growled irritably.

The man stared at him with an unimpressed face before rolling his eyes and picking up the sickles off the floor. He grabbed another bottle of firewhiskey and slid it across the countertop to Harry.

Stupid man, Harry thought as he opened the whiskey and took a long drink. Denying him his rights. Stupid and pathetic. Harry closed his eyes as he swallowed. He was so thirsty. He took another drink. And another. It seemed no matter how many sips he took, his body craved for even more, unsatisfied with the amount he was giving it. He felt like he hadn't drunk in days, his tongue and lips dry and cracked, but that was obviously not the case. He was drinking now. Stupid confused body. Harry kept drinking the bottle, his thoughts suddenly remembering why he was here.

Mourning all those who had died in the war. The war had been a few years ago now – he was twenty-one years old. But the memory of those who died, gave their lives for the greater good, was still fresh in his mind, haunting his nightmares, torturing his guilty conscience. No one should have had to die. So many good lives lost, families destroyed, and so much hurt. It should never have had to be. It was his fault everyone had died. If he hadn't been the stupid Chosen One, no one would have had to suffer. If Voldemort had not existed, maybe so many people would still be alive.

But what could he do about that? Nothing.

He was useless.

Useless then, useless now.

He was such a fool.

Harry drank some more, nearly finishing the bottle. He took a deep breath, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over him. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cold countertop, trying not to shiver against it, and just focused on his breathing: a nice deep breath, nice and slow . . . another deep breath, even slower . . . another deep breath, ever so slow . . .

* * *

He was floating. A thousand miles high. Harry opened his eyes but was nearly blinded by the bright light all around him. He couldn't feel, couldn't move, couldn't speak. He just kept floating.

 _Where am I?_ Harry thought. _Is this what it's like to die?_

Harry suddenly realized that his body was glowing a golden color and he wasn't exactly a solid being. He looked almost transparent. Like a ghost. A golden ghost.

Is this my spirit? Am I all that is left of me?

Suddenly, Harry felt a huge wave of calmness and peace wash over him, nearly drowning in how wonderful it felt. He closed his eyes, welcoming the feel. He could live like this forever. He wouldn't mind staying here.

Harry's eyes opened as he felt even lighter and he realized he was dissolving – like salt in water – starting at his fingers and toes and rising up his body. He was becoming one with this entity of calm and peace. But he didn't care. He wanted to become one. He never wanted to leave. He had nothing left to live for. He closed his eyes, embracing his fate.

Unbeknownst to him, a piece of his very soul fragmented off and glided a way, a small golden orb, barely the size of a quarter, that contained a piece of the once great Harry Potter. A memory of the young Boy-Who-Lived. It vanished from this white entity that Harry had become one with. It flew through the sky, among the stars, traveling through time and space, before slowing down in a new world.

A world so like the one it had originally belonged in. It traveled among neighborhoods and countrysides, until it came across one house where a similar spirit resided.

The golden orb gently glided into a room where a small boy was sleeping. It hovered above the body, glowing brighter, before dropping and disappearing inside the boy, the child's body emitting a golden color.

"Ow," the little boy mumbled, his face scrunching up a bit as he rubbed at his head. He rolled over on his side and snuggled into his pillow more, his eyes never opening for a second.

A moment later, the gold faded, and the boy slept on, as if nothing had ever happened.

* * *

It had been a year since Harry had woken up with memories of his previous self. He had grown used to being Harry Snape, though the memories did still haunt him at times. At least Albus had removed the terror that caused the nightmares – if only he could remove the memories that caused him terror. He had spoken to Albus when the man had visited his father once, and Albus said if his assumptions were correct, he should slowly start to forget the old world as he grew older, soon developing only a déjà vu feeling. Harry couldn't wait for that day, though he was a bit sad that he'd one day say goodbye to what he did remember of the old world. At least, of the happier memories.

But now, Harry wanted to understand more about this reality. He still didn't grasp how the reality worked, how a whole universe could be created. It just didn't make since. He had so many more questions for Albus, but how to get the man to come to him? If Harry dared left his father's quarters without permission, his father would have a heart attack and probably smack him a few times. But if he asked for permission, his father would have to come with him. It wasn't right letting a five-year-old wander the school unattended.

An idea suddenly struck Harry. He quickly searched for a plain piece of parchment in his room, finding one he had been drawing on earlier, and picked up a crayon. He tapped his chin in thought. How did one write a letter again? And how did you spell "dear?" D-E-E-R? Harry thought. Maybe? It sounded right. Maybe he could make a code instead.

Harry drew a big question mark and then carefully made his best letters: SOS. There. That should get the message across. Harry ran out of his room and called out, "Tilpy!"

Tilpy was his house-elf babysitter while his father taught classes. Harry had thought he'd be able to get away with a lot when his father was away at classes and left him all alone in these rooms (he wasn't always alone – his father had a wizard or witch babysitter hang with him sometimes or his two favorite uncles would play with him.) He had tried to sneak into the potions lab, make food in the kitchen, and even tried to "decorate" his boring walls in his room with colorful pictures. Tilpy had caught and stopped him each and every time.

"Yes, young master Harry?" Tilpy asked as she appeared in the room.

"Can you take that to Headmaster Albus please? Tell him it's from me."

"Tilpy will take note to Headmaster right away."

"Thank you," Harry said, remembering his manners and smiling sweetly. The older part within him suddenly came alive and frowned at his childish behavior, as it often did now and then. But Harry didn't fight against it much. He was learning to ignore it sometimes and just be Harry Snape.

Harry went back to coloring and after several long minutes, he began to wonder if Albus would understand his message. Maybe he should have attempted to write a message. He wasn't very good at spelling, but he had sworn Albus would at least take a hint.

Then, the floo flared up and Albus stepped through.

"Good afternoon, Harry. Lemon drop?"

Harry smiled and happily took a lemon drop from the headmaster, immediately sucking on it.

"I got your message," Albus said, sitting on the couch and tapping the coffee table. The house elves did not disappoint, and tea and biscuits appeared. Albus began making himself a cup. "Although, I must say I don't quite understand it."

"I can't write," Harry informed, wanting tea himself. He picked up the teapot and tried to pour himself some tea, but the pot was heavy and his aim was off, so tea spilled to the floor. Harry looked up at Albus with a guilty look. "Oopsie."

"Allow me, Harry," Albus smiled, waving his wand and cleaning the mess. Then, Albus poured Harry tea himself, adding sugar and cream for the child. Harry happily accepted the cup before grabbing two biscuits and sitting down on the couch next to Albus.

"Easy on those, Harry. Your father won't be happy if I let you have too many."

"He doesn't have to know."

Albus chuckled and Harry munched happily on the warm, chocolatey biscuits.

"About your note?" Albus pushed.

"Oh yeah," Harry set the tea down, but held on to the cookies. "I want to know exactly how you made this world. How can two realities exist at one time with the same people?"

"Well, for one, it doesn't exist at the exact same time. We are years behind the previous one you remember. And as for having the same people, everyone shares the same spirit in all the realities. You see, what happened is those who dies in the previous world are indeed dead, but a small fragment of their spirit came to this reality and found their counterparts, usually still in the womb of their mother. That fragment acts as more of a life source than anything else."

"What's a life source?"

"It is what all living things need to be alive, Harry. Usually, it is the soul of the person, created new in the womb. However, for realities to exist and hold the same people, a single soul must be shared, fragments of the original life source soul from an original reality. It breaks off when the original being dies and it searches for a matching counterpart. It is so small that it does not usually interfere with memories. You're a special case."

"I'm always a special case," Harry informed. "But, Aunt Petunia wasn't dead in my reality and she's alive here. Do you have to die in the other world for it to work?"

"Yes, and time is a funny thing Harry. And I believe there are more than just two realities in existence. Somewhere, in some time period, your Aunt Petunia is dead, and that fragmented soul gave her a life source to continue living in a new world as a counterpart."

"Oh," Harry frowned. Even more realities existed?

"It is this very concept that made me wonder about you. I believe I may know what happened and why you suddenly woke up with memories. You see, when you were in the womb and still developing a heartbeat just like everyone else, a fragmented soul of a Harry Potter gave you the life source you needed to develop a beating heart and become a counterpart. This Harry Potter may have been very far into a future reality, perhaps one that died of old age. Then, a younger Harry Potter played with fate and died in a more present time period, resulting in another soul piece that just happened to find its way to the same Harry Snape four years later, adding an additional life source."

"I have two pieces of Harry Potter's soul in me?"

"Like I said, time is a funny thing, and this is a very rare case."

"What does me having two life sources mean?"

"Nothing really. It doesn't hurt to have two – it won't make you live any longer or anything if that's what you're wondering. It appears to be influencing your brain and making you remember things of the past world. I guess that extra bit is fighting to make itself known instead of lying dormant like the other piece. There's a reason just a small fragment is needed, not two. It would also explain why you "woke up" in this reality at four years old."

"And why I didn't remember anything about Harry Snape?"

"Now, that, I'm not sure about. Perhaps getting hit with an extra life source caused a concussion like reaction, resulting in memory loss. I'm sure it was not much of a loss though; most people don't remember much past four years old anyway."

"You told me that I can't tell anyone about the past reality. Is it because of the life source thingie?"

"Yes, Harry. You see, it might be lying dormant now, but there is magic in the words we say. And informing someone of their alternate pasts might be enough to stimulate the life source they have within them, causing it to grow by feeding off the soul of the counterpart, forcing memories to return. Eventually, the life source would consume enough of the counterparts' soul to kill them. And when they die, floating in some heavenly realm, a fragment of a combined life source soul and counterpart soul would return back to the previous reality, kind of creating a combination of a person. Say you were to return – you would be both Harry Potter and Harry Snape."

"That sounds cool!"

"Well, I guess it does, but you see, Harry, the time continuum wouldn't like having someone that doesn't really belong in that reality, so it would try to remove you. Possibly by killing you in some way or another. It wouldn't be pretty. So let's make sure we are careful and don't expose ourselves to anyone, okay?"

"Yes, Albus. I'll be extra careful!"

"Good."

"So," Harry scrunched up his face in thought, nibbling on a cookie. "Does that mean I'm just Harry Snape here, and not any bit of Harry Potter."

"You have a bit of Harry Potter's soul within you, double the normal amount actually. But you are Harry Snape through and through. You are a new soul with a piece of the original. You may have memories of the original Harry Potter, and that may affect your thinking sometimes, but as I've said before, those memories should fade as Harry Snape's soul grows and the old one weakens. Hopefully, the extra piece will stop trying to make itself known and settle into a dormant state."

Harry frowned. It still seemed far too confusing to him, but he was sure he'd understand it once he was older and had the mental capacity to grasp such concepts. He smiled at Albus and nodded.

"Okay. Can I have another biscuit?"

"Alright, but just one more. You don't want me to get in trouble with your father, now do you?"

Harry cheekily nodded his head as he took another cookie and shoved it in his mouth.

"Silly boy," Albus smiled, shaking his head at Harry.

The door to the rooms opened and Severus froze as he saw Albus sitting on the couch with his son. The man frowned, but politely greeted, "Good afternoon, headmaster."

"Albus, dear boy, just call me Albus."

"What brings you here?" Severus closed the door and stepped over to the couch. ALbus rose to his feet, setting the teacup down.

"I was just visiting little Harry here," Albus smiled at the boy before looking back at Severus. "You know, perhaps you should arrange some playdates. It must get lonely and boring being in these rooms all the time with no one his age."

"He has playdates," Severus said, glancing at Harry, watching the boy shove a cookie into his mouth. "Next year, I'm thinking of having Remus tutor him. That way, he'll have something to do during the day while I'm teaching."

"That sounds splendid. Well, I must be on my way. Have a good evening, Severus. You too, Harry."

"Bye, Albus!" Harry shouted loudly over a cookie as the man disappeared in the floo's flames. Harry became aware of his father staring at him and he looked up at the man.

"What were you and the headmaster talking about?" Severus asked.

"I asked him if I can join Hogwarts and be sorted now that I'm five. He said I had to wait longer." Harry pouted. "But I'm five now."

"Such a big boy, yes," Severus smirked, then frowned when Harry reached for another cookie. "No! How many of those have you had?"

Harry shrugged and grabbed a cookie.

"Put it back, Harry."

Harry shook his head, jumping off the couch as his father walked towards him.

"Don't you dare eat it!" Severus said, chasing after his son as Harry started running with the cookie, laughing all the while. Harry screamed as he was captured around the waist and lifted into his father's arms, Severus cradling him like a baby. Thinking quickly, Harry shoved the whole cookie in his mouth.

"Spit it out," Severus commanded, summoning a handkerchief should Harry actually listen.

"Mm-mm," Harry shook his head, keeping both hands over his mouth as he chewed.

"Spit it out," Severus said again, giving a mock glare.

"Mm-mm!" Harry shook his head again, laughing as he kept trying to chew the big cookie shoved in his mouth.

"You're going to choke if you keep laughing like that."

His father's comment only made Harry laugh even more, and he struggled to finish chewing and because of his laughter, cookie pieces fell out of his mouth and to the floor, earning a disgusted groan from his father. "That's gross, Harry." Severus set him back on his feet to clean the mess with a sweep of his wand. Harry ran back over to the plate of cookies on the coffee table and grabbed anther one.

"Harry, no," Severus said, walking over to him, reaching down to pick up the plate of biscuits as he said, "I'm serious this time, no more cookies. You don't need to be eating all –"

"For you, Daddy," Harry said, shoving the cookie into his father's open mouth.

Severus nearly choked when Harry did that, standing up straight and biting off what was in his mouth, coughing slightly as he chewed then swallowed, his eyes still a bit watery from nearly choking.

"Is it yummy?" Harry asked with an innocent smile.

Severus rolled his eyes and ruffled his son's hair, saying, "Delicious," before he finished the cookie and took the rest out to the kitchen to put into a cookie jar. Harry followed his father out to the kitchen and leaned against the man, watching him put the cookies away. He loved his new life with his adoring father. And he was glad to know he was truly Harry Snape – he belonged to this world. And he never wanted to leave it. Severus reached down and smoothed back Harry's hair, smiling down at the boy, who smiled right back.

* * *

As I'm sure you know, in Monster from the Chamber, Harry is at the déjà vu stage. His memories are almost completely faded. Sad, I know, but the memories mean nothing anymore – not to Harry Snape. He's accepted what he used to be and the past he lived. He's accepted who he is now and is happy to let things go. It's healthier that way.

I know I didn't reveal exactly how Albus created the universe (Albus managed to side step the question with little Harry), but some mysteries are best left a mystery. We'll never know how Albus did it! Evil author laugh!

And for those who read To Destroy a Second Chance, this story kind of answers what happened there as well. I hope you enjoyed it! And don't forget what I said above!


End file.
